Resident Evil: EndGame
by EvilOverlord85
Summary: Umbrella prepares to exterminate all survivors of their biohazard incidents. Who'll be safe now that the company is on the offensive? Includes all surviving characters in the known RE universe and a few surprises!
1. Prelude

I do not own Capcom or any of the characters that they have created, nor do I own the characters and storylines in S.D. Perry's Resident evil novels. This story, however, is mine.

I felt like doing a story based on both the video game and the novels. How often does this happen? With the continuity problems in both the games and the novels, it's a pretty tall order. Now, to set up the story, say that all the games (Resident Evil 0, Resident Evil, Resident Evil 2, Resident Evil 3, Resident Evil Code: Veronica, Resident Evil Survivor, Resident Evil Gaiden, and Resident Evil Dead Aim) have happened like they're supposed to. Now take the happenings in only S.D. Perry's second novel, Caliban Cove, and add those events. Nothing in Underworld has happened yet. You've now come to the beginning...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 1- Prelude

"Sirs, preliminary reports are coming in on all targets." The young soldier saluted sharply, then stood at parade rest as he awaited further instructions.

"Very good, Corporal James. Dismissed." The middle-aged man sitting at the head of the table replied.

"Aye, sir. I'll be standing by if you need me." The soldier answered, then turned on his heel and left quickly to attend to other duties.

"Yes, very good indeed. These bastards have been a great deal of trouble to us, and now we'll end their pathetic little lives." Jackson said with a particularly evil grin, seemingly excited by the thought. He turned towards his laptop before the younger of his two companions interrupted him.

"Are you sure this is necessary, Jackson?" the man in the blue suit asked. "After all, we don't need to waste time poring over this, we could just send units out and kill them." The man at the head of the table silenced him with a sharp glance.

"Just read it, Jay." The three began to sift through the information collected about their hated enemies.

---BEGIN DOCUMENT---

Andrews, John- 38, former Alpha team communications expert & field scout for S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch. Lost close friends Steve Lopez & Karen Driver at Caliban Cove, hates Umbrella for causing their deaths. Was instrumental in preventing Nicolas Griffith (deceased) from infecting the world with T-virus strain. Broke three ribs & punctured a lung in the operation, saved by David Trapp & Rebecca Chambers from Cove waters after explosion in the lab. Current whereabouts are in Vermont with the above.

Birkin, Sherry- 16, daughter of Umbrella scientists William & Annette Birkin (both deceased). Currently a prisoner of ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain Albert Wesker. Quiet & shy, but very intelligent for her age. Praised for living as long as she did on her own during viral outbreak. Survived Raccoon City disaster with help of Claire Redfield & Leon Kennedy. Carries T-virus vaccine in her bloodstream. Very dependent on adults, has a problem with being left alone. Resides at H.C.F. headquarters in Texas at the moment.

Burton, Barry- 42, former Alpha team weapons specialist for Raccoon City S.T.A.R.S. branch. Munitions expert, crack shot. Served with Chris Redfield for long amount of time, they are close friends. Survived Spencer estate mission, saved Jill Valentine & Carlos Oliveira from Raccoon City. Involved in U.S.S. Starlight incident. Currently in California with Leon Kennedy & Lucia. Friendly with people he trusts, fiercely protective of his family. Wife- Kathy, daughters- Moira & Poly Anne.

Chambers, Rebecca- 22, the former medic for Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team, very inexperienced. Has background in biochemistry, graduated college at age 17. Youngest member ever recruited for S.T.A.R.S. active duty, first mission to Spencer estate. Served on strike team that went to Caliban Cove with S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch operatives John Andrews & David Trapp. Is very insightful, but occasionally worries too much about people she cares for. Is now in Vermont with Trapp & Andrews.

Coen, Billy- 30, previously a first lieutenant in the Marine Corps, dishonorably discharged following a court-marshal blaming him for the murder of a group of fellow Marines (was set up by Umbrella in order to be sent to Spencer mansion lab to be used in experiments). Got loose in Arklay forest & escaped the destruction of a secret Umbrella facility with the assistance of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo team medic Rebecca Chambers. Left Chambers before Spencer mansion incident, whereabouts unknown.

Ginovaef, Nicholai- 39, former sergeant in U.B.C.S., one of Umbrella's supervisors in the Raccoon outbreak test. Very unstable, considered insane. Served for number of years in the Russian armed forces, was sent into Raccoon to make sure none of the U.B.C.S. left Raccoon alive. After leaving, came back to Umbrella, promoted for service in Raccoon. Now is head of security at Umbrella Pharmaceutical international headquarters in Austria. Thought to be a danger, not to be trusted.

Hunk- 40, alias Mr. Death; real name confidential. Known for taking Umbrella reconnaissance missions with low survivor rate. Completely flawless record, never disappoints. The best of Umbrella's special ops division. Sent into Raccoon after the viral outbreak to retrieve a sample of William Birkin's G-virus. After returning, he was promoted for meritorious service to special operations division head. Resides in Austria nearby Umbrella Pharmaceutical HQ. Usually listed under false name James Cooper.

Kennedy, Leon Scott- 25, previously a rookie in the Raccoon Police Department. Excellent shot, fair tactician. After escaping Raccoon outbreak with Claire Redfield & Sherry Birkin, he was captured and separated from Birkin by a mysterious organization targeting Umbrella. He joined them & was sent on a recon mission to the U.S.S. Starlight, a luxury liner housing Umbrella bio-weapons. He escaped thanks to fellow operative Barry Burton & a young girl named Lucia. Is now in California.

Klein, Lott & Lily- 17 & 13, very self-sufficient, trust people easily. Lived on Sheena Island with Umbrella scientist parents (both deceased). Met Ark Thompson after viral outbreak, Helped them get off Sheena alive. Lily is very dependent on her older brother & Thompson, has problems with abandonment issues. Lott is quiet & mostly introverted, doesn't talk much to any adults. They seem to be opening up to Thompson, with whom they have developed a strong sense of trust. Live together in Minnesota with Thompson.

Ling, Fong- 25, former covert operator for the Safety Department of China. Efficient, sometimes brutal in her actions. Sent on mission to take down Morpheus D. Duvall, a fanatical ex-Umbrella scientist, before he could unleash the T and G series viruses on the world. Republic of China thought she had failed, tried to exterminate her. She took out Duvall with American agent Bruce McGivern. Currently in China trying to discover the reason for her attempted termination at the hands of her employers.

Lucia- 16, last name unknown. Acted as host for experimental B.O.W. on U.S.S. Starlight. Saved by Leon Kennedy & Barry Burton, Kennedy was subsequently infected with the same organism Lucia was. Got back to the states & he underwent the same operation to remove creature, seems to have fully recovered. She is now Burton's adopted daughter, because she has no memory or records of her past & family. Is now in California under care of Burton & Kennedy, contains valuable info in her DNA.

McGivern, Bruce- 27, covert operator for the anti-Umbrella Pursuit Investigation team of U.S. STRATCOM with Burton and Kennedy. Has a strong sense of justice and may act recklessly without concern for his own life. Often bordering on out of control, but does a first class job. Sent on mission to take down Duvall before he could unleash the T and G viruses on the world. Saved Chinese agent Fong Ling, with whom he defeated and destroyed Duvall. Whereabouts are in California.

Oliveira, Carlos- 25, able pilot, excellent shot. Former U.B.C.S. member. Sent into Raccoon by Umbrella to test experimental bio-weapons (he was told they were rescuing civilians). Found out what evils Umbrella was implementing, quit Umbrella & partnered with S.T.A.R.S. member Jill Valentine. Escaped Raccoon with assistance from Valentine & Barry Burton. Holds extreme wrath towards Umbrella agent Nicholai Ginovaef. Presently in France with Valentine, looking for Chris Redfield.

Redfield, Chris- 29, Former Alpha team marksman for Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. Expert marksman, able hand-to-hand combatant. Discharged from USAF for insubordination. Drifted until he ran into Barry Burton who recruited him for S.T.A.R.S. Served under Albert Wesker until Spencer estate mission. He left to Europe before the Raccoon outbreak & tracked his sister to the Rockfort prison facility & the Antarctic Transport base after she was captured. He is now in Paris with Claire, scouting facilities.

Redfield, Claire- 23, college student in Pennsylvania. Unpredictable, extremely dangerous. Survived Raccoon City disaster with Leon Kennedy & Sherry Birkin, left after escape to find her brother. Was caught in Umbrella administrative facility, transferred to Rockfort, escaped to Antarctic transport facility with assistance from Steve Burnside (deceased). Left facility with brother after its destruction. Very resourceful, has knack for getting into trouble. With Chris in Paris.

Thompson, Ark- 26, former government investigator, graduated with Leon Kennedy from same academy, best friends. Sent by Kennedy to investigate Umbrella activity on Sheena Island. T-virus released on Sheena by island commander, Vincent Goldman (deceased), uncontrolled infection spread across island. Escaped after fighting experimental Tyrant, Left with Lott & Lily Klein (Ark is now their adopted father). Thorough & insightful, now in Minnesota with the Klein siblings following Umbrella leads.

Trapp, David- 44, Previous captain for the S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch in Maine. amazing military mind, excellent soldier. Lost two teammates on operation to Caliban Cove, blames himself for their deaths. His confidence in his leadership has been shaken; he doesn't want to command anymore. Made a pledge to take Umbrella down after S.T.A.R.S. directors' betrayal & subsequent conversion to Umbrella's payroll. Now in Vermont with Rebecca Chambers & John Andrews sifting through the S.T.A.R.S. network for allies.

Valentine, Jill- 27, former Alpha machine expert for the S.T.A.R.S. team, Raccoon branch. Excellent hand-to-hand combatant, very dangerous. Adept in operating mechanical & technological equipment. Served on U.S. Delta Force, promoted to Alpha team quickly under Albert Wesker. Survived mission to Spencer estate, stayed in Raccoon during destruction, saved by Carlos Oliveira & Barry Burton. Very brave young woman, strong convictions. Now with Oliveira in France searching for Chris Redfield.

Wesker, Albert- 42, the final surviving member of the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. team. Extremely deceptive, will trade alliances randomly for his own purposes. Supposedly died in Spencer estate explosion. Joined Umbrella rival H.C.F., was infected with a virus that made him incredibly strong, fast & invincible. Hates most of the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S. for the failure of his mission in the Spencer/Arklay lab. Umbrella developed counter-virus for his pathogen, not tested yet. Whereabouts currently unknown.

Wong, Ada- 33, previously an espionage agent sent into Raccoon to recover the G-virus, thought to have perished in the underground lab explosion. Was found before destruction of lab & rescued by Albert Wesker, followed him back to H.C.F. Excellent espionage tactics, master spy. Spotless record for H.C.F., Raccoon mission was first failed operation. Dislikes Umbrella for almost causing her death. Usually at H.C.F. headquarters in Texas, but has not been sighted for some time.

---END DOCUMENT---

Jackson stood up and stretched himself, studying his companions with a shrewd intensity. Together, the three of them comprised the inner circle of Umbrella's management, the most powerful force in the corporate world. Sidney Coleman had a thoughtful look on his face as he finished reading the report. He sipped at his Earl Grey tea and nodded his head, his thinning salt-and-pepper hair waving. Jay Reston finished reading and stifled a yawn, thoroughly convinced that the biohazard survivors posed no real threat. Jackson cleared his throat as he resumed his seat, immediately drawing the attention of the other two men. While the three of them were all on somewhat equal footing, Jackson was the senior member of the circle and was considered the boss for most if not all occasions.

"Sidney, I want you to put in a call to Trent. I need his opinion of my plan." The stocky man stood up and buttoned the jacket of his suit, picked up his ever-present cup of tea, and left the room to contact the missing member of their circle. "Jay, you make sure that all of our facilities in America have security beefed up. I don't want to lose anymore labs." Reston nodded and left the room, heading to his own spacious office to make the necessary phone calls. Jackson smoothed his carefully groomed mustache as he called up his list of personnel on the small laptop. Finding what he was looking for, he paged his secretary.

"Miss Baker, will you send for Greenway, Palmer, Ivey, and Clark? I would like to speak with them."

"Right away, sir." The secretary quickly replied. He pivoted in his chair and stared out the conference room window. He judged it was about eight o'clock in the evening. When his loyal soldiers arrived about thirty minutes later, he studied each of them in turn. Before him he had his four most promising soldiers, fresh off training their platoons in Umbrella's back-up training facility, Creighton Island. Under normal circumstances, they would have been at Rockfort, but thanks to the Redfields, that particular facility no longer existed.

"I want the four of you to gather up twenty-five of your best men." He began slowly.

"One hundred soldiers? What for?" Captain Ivey interrupted. The portly officer straightened his coke-bottle thick glasses and squinted at the senior chairman. Brandon Ivey was the least organized of the four soldiers in the room, constantly fumbling his orders and losing his place in whatever he was doing. His one defining virtue was his ability to get his troops moving with little to no effort. They didn't always get the job done right, but they got it done first. Jackson glared at him with malevolence before continuing.

"You are going to be collecting the Umbrella biohazard survivors." Jackson explained. "Some of them are highly dangerous, and they are to be brought in alive to be thoroughly questioned and checked over to secure the secrecy of our operations."

"How many are there?" Major Palmer asked. Zach Palmer was the youngest of the officers ever given a command in Umbrella's small militia, but the major had proven his worth continuously as a crack shot and a computer expert of the highest order. Palmer ran a hand through his unruly brown hair and waited patiently for his commander to continue.

"All together," Jackson paused and thought for a moment. "twenty-one."

"This is overkill!" Ivey snorted.

"No, it's not." Jackson growled, quickly losing patience with the fat man. "Several are specially trained and very deadly. You will be taking them carefully, or they will begin to figure out the situation, then ally with each other. If they associate, you'll never get them."

"Then why a hundred men for only twenty-one, sir?" Colonel Greenway asked. "We have the best trained men in the world!" Clayton Greenway was the highest decorated soldier on Umbrella's payroll, but constantly turned down promotions due to his passion for, as he says, 'being in the trenches.' Greenway worked best under pressure and thrived on combat. He was a consummate professional, standing at attention with his piercing gaze and shaved head.

"Because if I don't send that many, you'll all be coming home in a shoebox. These men and women are some of the most unpredictable and explosive people on the planet. Now, the first target is Leon Kennedy. CPT Ivey, you will be going to San Diego to collect him. The rest of you will be getting specific instructions later." Jackson pivoted his chair around, a clear sign that the discussion was closed.

"This is idiotic!" Ivey cried. "Twenty-five soldiers after one man. What can one man possibly do?"

"This." The angry chairman replied. He slowly turned around to face the officer, revealing a .50 caliber magnum in his hand. Ivey barely had time to register disbelief before Jackson fired, the powerful round exploding what little brains the captain had out of the rear of his head and onto the bookcase behind him. The heavy, decapitated corpse sagged to the floor.

"Any other questions?" All that remained was wide-eyed silence and a questioning look from his brunette secretary through the glass doors of the conference room.

"I hope you learned from your comrade's mistake. I am not to be trifled with." he leaned over and pressed the button of his intercom once again. "Brandi, send the janitorial staff to the conference room whenever you get the chance."

"Yes, Mr. Cortlandt." The secretary replied.

"Now gentleman, I trust you can take care of this situation? Umbrella has twenty-one guests waiting for their invitations. Let's get on it, shall we?" When silence and dumbfounded nodding greeted him, he said, "Dismissed."

"Yes sir!" the three officers responded in unison and turned sharply to leave. The chairman leaned back over the table and picked up the phone. As soon as the handset left the cradle, the line went through to his personal assistant, Corporal Brian James. The wiry blond man had shown unwavering dedication to Jackson over the last few years, proving to be competent and able, but notoriously short-tempered.

"Yes, Mr. Cortlandt?" the corporal asked as soon as his cell phone rang.

"Come to the conference room, please." Jackson replied. The young soldier arrived moments later. "I want you to see if you can locate these persons that can't be found. I want to know where Albert Wesker, Ada Wong, and Billy Coen are by the time the first of my guests arrives."

"Are you sure it can be done, sir? It took all of our probe resources just to find out the information that we did." the corporal asked.

"Yes 'sergeant,' I have faith in you that you can do it. Of course, you know the price for failure." Jackson said quietly, gesturing toward the heavy-set corpse still slumped in the room.

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!" the newly promoted sergeant said and turned to leave and attend to his duties.

"Oh Brian, one more thing." Cortlandt said suddenly. The tall man reeled around and stared at him. "Cancel CPT Ivey's pension. He won't be needing it." SGT James slowly nodded and left. Grinning, Jackson Cortlandt sat down at the table and began to re-read the reports.


	2. To Catch A Kennedy

I do not own Capcom or any of the characters that they have created, nor do I own the characters and storylines in S.D. Perry's Resident evil novels. This story, however, is mine.

I'm back with another installment of EndGame. I'd like to thank Linchi and buffyfan363 for the reviews, and in answer to your question, it ties in to the second novel, Caliban Cove, but not the others. That's why I've got John and David and the Umbrella inner circle in it. I think you'll all enjoy the next couple of chapters, as the survivors match their wits against Umbrella's hired guns.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 2- To Catch A Kennedy

Glancing over his shoulder, Leon Kennedy checked to see if the black-clothed soldiers were still behind him. It had been almost an hour since the first men appeared and ambushed him outside of his and Barry's apartment. **This is crazy!** He thought angrily. **I come out to go for my morning jog and suddenly I've got a dozen men on my ass.** Leon wasn't sure what he did, but he damn sure knew that he wasn't going to sit idly by and be slaughtered. They wanted Leon Kennedy, they were going to get him. Spotting a possible escape route, he ducked down a side street and pulled his H&K VP70-burst from his shoulder holster and cocked back the trigger. If there was one thing that his experiences with Umbrella taught him, it was that going anywhere without a gun and a lot of ammo was a really bad idea. He backed down the alley, hoping to find a method of escape, but his choice in alleys couldn't be worse. There were no doors, no fire escapes, and the alley itself terminated in a twelve foot tall brick wall a dozen yards behind him. Leon cursed his luck and assumed a classic shooter's stance, waiting for the first of the creeps to round the corner. His H&K was capable of full auto fire, and when five soldiers came jogging around the corner, weapons drawn, he took full advantage of it, mowing them down one by one. Their fellow soldiers were apparently too smart to fall to the same ambush, stationing themselves around the mouth of the alley.

"Shit." Leon growled to no one in particular. "This is bad." Leon knew that despite the two clips he had in his back pocket, there was no way he could defend himself from their attacks for too long.

"Give up, Kennedy! There's no chance of you escaping! We have orders to take you alive, so you won't be injured!" one officer called to him.

"Captain Young, he's already killed six men! I say we put him down." Another soldier yelled.

"When you're in command, you can think for yourself. Right now, you'll do what I say. Understood, lieutenant?" the captain replied.

"Look, I do hate to interrupt you guys, but 'he' is still here, and 'he' isn't going anywhere. So get bent!" Leon screamed between gunshots.

"The commander told us that he has to remain alive. Bring out the tranq darts." CPT Young said. **The hell?** **Tranquilizers?** Leon wondered. **Great**. **Just what I need to make the day better. **He knew that these guys had to be from Umbrella, but why they wanted him alive was a complete mystery to him. Presently, he noticed the barrel of a gun barely poking around the corner, and when the man carrying it showed his face, Leon made sure that he lost his head. When a second soldier tried to retrieve the tranq gun, Leon gave him a nine-millimeter lullaby as well. After that, Young's men fell back and began to wise up. Leon continued to trade fire with the soldiers for the better part of half an hour before he backed farther down the alley to reload. He cracked open the handgun and counted what he had. Nine bullets left. **Well, they were gonna use tranq darts to begin with, so whatever they want me for isn't lethal...yet.** Leon thought. **So if I rush them, what's the worst they can do?** He never did come up with an answer. Leon charged out of the alley, screaming like a madman. His illogical kamikaze attack caught the soldiers by surprise, and he managed to pick off four more before he felt two sharp stings in his thigh. Looking down at the darts imbedded in his leg, Leon fell to his knees, his gaze already beginning to cloud over. The last thing he saw was the butt of Young's Remington shotgun before it smashed into his face.

Barry wouldn't admit to anyone who knew him, but he was worried. Very worried, in fact. He had just finished a double-shift because Leon hadn't shown up for work, and the fact that he kept getting a busy tone whenever he called the house over the last eight hours was disconcerting, to say the least. Leon was sorely needed at HQ if they were gonna bring down Umbrella, and the rookie's disappearance was inexplicable. If Leon wasn't there and he wasn't at work, then where was he? Barry had woken up early this morning to get to work, and Leon had been up and said that he'd relieve him at three o'clock. Leon was never one to miss a day of work, even if he was deathly ill, and not being able to get in touch with him at all was making Barry extremely uncomfortable. He put his thoughts aside as he pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building, killing the engine of the SUV and pocketing the keys before heading up to the third floor apartment he shared with his adopted daughter, Lucia, and Leon. **Maybe she knows where Leon is.** Barry mused while walking down the hallway. He stopped and regarded the front door with a curious expression. It was inconceivable that, after all he, Lucia and Leon went through that either one of them would leave the door unlocked, whether at home or not. The sixteen-year-old should have been home from school by now, sitting on the couch and drinking a soda while watching Friends instead of working on her homework. But the apartment was silent, and Barry instinctively pulled his Colt Python from his shoulder holster and carefully opened the door. The sight that greeted him inside the spacious apartment made him sick with worry. It had been trashed, with shelves knocked over, furniture broken, and shards of broken glass covering the floor. The big man quickly searched the rooms to find no trace of his partner or adopted daughter, but plenty of shell casings and an empty syringe. Barry stood in the middle of the ravaged heap he had once called his home and stared blankly at the floor, mind reeling from the fact that his good friend and little girl were gone, either taken...or worse. **I knew I should have taken Lucia to Canada. She would have been safe with Kathy and the girls. **Barry thought aimlessly. It was the sight of Lucia's backpack, ripped and scattered, that finally spurned him to action. He clenched his huge fists as the raging anger flowed through him. **Umbrella's gonna pay. I swear it.** Barry strode towards the gun safe hidden behind the fridge and began loading weapons into a duffel bag, gritting his teeth. **This ain't over...**

Jackson Cortlandt was standing in his office, studying the constellations in the sky. Gemini, Orion, Cancer; they had always fascinated him as an innocent child. Back before he was bogged down with life and work. Back before he became the senior head of Umbrella and one of the richest and most powerful men on the planet. Back before he became partially responsible for the deaths of thousands of people, both intentionally and passively. Cortlandt sighed, and sat down in his chair. **These S.T.A.R.S. and their friends, they're making life miserable for me. They've cost the company millions, destroyed facility after facility, and been responsible for the deaths of some of the biggest names in our bio-weapons research division. William Birkin. Alexia Ashford. Vincent Goldman. Nicolas Griffith. The list goes on. It's finally time to get rid of all these meddling troublemakers. Granted, some of our top employees are on the list to be exterminated, but loose cannons like Ginovaef and mavericks like Hunk can be replaced. It's all a matter of money and politics. Soon, after they've all been disposed of, life will get back to normal, and I can finally relax. But until then...**his phone rang, jarring him out of his mental wanderings, and Cortlandt sighed again before reaching over and picking it up.

"Jackson, we've got a problem." Jay's cultured voice stated over the phone. "So far, all of the facilities in the U.S. are locked down and safe, except for one. You see, we seem to have lost contact with the Redmond lab up in Vermont."

"Vermont? Are you sure?" Cortlandt inquired.

"Yeah, we have a small bio-weapon storage base up there." Reston replied. "It's gotta be Trapp and his little group."

"Call Palmer, have him scramble a security detail over there immediately." Cortlandt ordered. "This is good, it saves us the trouble of hunting them down." Just as soon as he set the phone down, it rang again. Jackson stared at it for a moment before picking it up. This time, it was CPT Young.

"Sir, we've neutralized two targets already. They should be en route to the airport to bring them to HQ as we speak."

"Very good, captain, I'm pleased with you. Tell me, how well of a fight did Mr. Kennedy put up before you brought him down?" Cortlandt asked eagerly.

"He killed nine and five more are in critical condition, sir." Young replied. "The girl didn't put up any resistance at all, though. She seemed rather, ahem, 'tranquil' at the time." The captain snickered at his little joke.

"Just make sure that Kennedy and Lucia are alive when they get here, otherwise you'll end up like your predecessor. You remember CPT Ivey, don't you?" Cortlandt replied, no trace of humor in his voice. Properly silenced, Young apologized and hung up. **You give someone a little rank and some power, and suddenly he's a bloody comedian...**Cortlandt thought. **Oh well, good help is so hard to find these days.** Yet another ring of his phone interrupted his thoughts. **Who the hell is it this time?**

"Jackson, it's Sidney. I can't seem to reach Trent anywhere. Where is he right now?" Cortlandt frowned. Trent should be at his private residence in New York right now, thinking of new and improved ways they could continue their benign research. Why was he unreachable?

"Try the data lab in Manhattan. He might be there." The senior member replied. "I want Trent to call me as soon as you get in touch with him." Cortlandt hung up and turned back to the window to stare at the stars.


	3. Unearthing Connections

I do not own Capcom or any of the characters that they have created, nor do I own the characters and storylines in S.D. Perry's Resident evil novels. This story, however, is mine.

This is your friendly neighborhood EvilOverlord with the third chapter of EndGame. Sorry that there's such a big pause between chapters, but college is a big pain in the arse. Now, to answer a question posed by Zombie Killer, I'm taking the events solely from Caliban Cove. I'm pretending that what happened in Underworld hasn't occurred. After John, David, and Rebecca escaped from the Cove, they went into hiding instead of meeting up with Leon, Claire, and Sherry. So Reston is still alive, and the rest of the events that have happened in the games have gone on as planned. Now that I'm done with that, let's see how our people from Resident Evil Survivor are doing...

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 3- Unearthing Connections

"I can't sleep. Lott, can you get me a drink of water?" Lott Klein sighed, and then rolled out of bed. His younger sister Lily had been through a lot over the last couple of years, and it was understandable that she still wasn't settled. After all, they'd spent a good portion of their lives on Sheena, and after the death of their parents and just about everyone else they knew on the Umbrella-owned island, he didn't blame her. He still hadn't gotten used to living with Ark yet, either. Ark Thompson was just about the nicest guy that Lott had ever met, and unlike their parents, Ark had spent all the time he could with them. But unlike Lily, Lott was old enough to understand what was going on, and he wasn't sure if he liked the idea of being on the run from the pharmaceutical company. **It beats the hell out of living alone though, doesn't it? Running from the undead and trying to take care of Lily...**Lott shook the thoughts and glanced in the living room as he passed it. It was midnight, but he wasn't surprised to see Ark on the computer.

"What are you looking for, Ark?" Lott asked curiously, walking up to his guardian and peering over his shoulder. The small red-and-white symbol in the top corner of the screen was answer enough; Ark was hacking Umbrella files again.

"I've found a list, and it was buried deep." Ark said, grinning nervously. His short, shaggy brown hair was plastered to his head, and his eyes darted around the room.

"What's on it?" Lott asked.

"Well, let me put it this way, we're very popular at the moment." Ark replied. He turned the laptop toward Lott and let the teen scan the names and information.

"Burton, McGivern, Redfield, Trapp, Wesker, Wong...all these people are biohazard survivors like us?" Lott asked.

"Yep. The twenty-one of us are on Umbrella's most wanted list." Ark smiled again, but the humor seemed to be forced. "I'm gonna put in a call to Leon, see if we can network our little group, and let them know that Umbrella knows the states, if not the cities. They know we're in Minnesota right now, but I don't think they know exactly where yet." Ark turned in his chair and put a hand on Lott's shoulder, staring at the seventeen-year-old intently. "Look Lott, I know you and your sister are tired of moving around, but we've got to be going again pretty soon. Why don't you go on back to bed, and we can talk more about this in the morning." After seeing Lott off to bed, Ark retuned to the living room, reached for the phone sitting next to the computer, and dialed up the number for Leon's apartment in California.

"Hello?" A gruff male voice, too deep to be Leon's, filtered through the other end. "Who the hell is this? What do you want?"

"Leon?" Ark ventured, hoping his initial impression was wrong.

"How do you know Leon? Where is he? What did you do with him?" again, the angry voice fired questions at him. It sounded like Leon's roommate; Ark had spoken to him briefly during an earlier conversation. What was his name? Benny? Bradley? Barry? That was it. Barry. Barry Burton. The same one on the list, as a matter of fact.

"Uh, Barry? This is Ark Thompson. You know, Leon's friend?" Ark said nervously. At this, Barry's demeanor changed immediately.

"Thank God, I thought you were Umbrella. Do you know where Leon is?" Barry said with relief.

"Um, I thought he was supposed to be with you. Isn't he there?" Ark asked. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Barry's voice came through, thick with anger and fear.

"Umbrella. They took him." Ark sighed, and then turned the computer back towards him. "I'd like to say I'm surprised, but I'm not." He clicked the screen up and began to explain the file to Barry.

"I found a list of people in a hacked Umbrella file. Tell me if any of these names sound familiar." Ark read the twenty-one names off the list.

"Chris, Jill, David and Rebecca were all S.T.A.R.S. members." Barry began. "Leon and Lucia got off the Starlight with me. Bruce is part of the same organization that Leon and I are, Claire is Chris's sister, Wesker was our captain in Raccoon but he's dead now, and Carlos is a former mercenary who's with Jill in Europe. The others don't sound familiar, except you."

"The names I read are all on a list in Umbrella's files titled, 'Termination Parameters.' I'm afraid that this is some kind of hit list, and we are all about to be taken care of. I don't know about you, but I don't want to be on the receiving end of whatever they're planning." Ark said. A heavy sigh filtered through the phone, and then Barry spoke up. The resignation was plain in his voice.

"I don't know what we're going to do. Those assholes already have Leon and Lucia. I have no way of getting in touch with the others." In spite of himself, Ark grinned.

"Then in that case, I've got good news for you. This list also has extensive information about our whereabouts. If Umbrella can find us, then maybe we can find each other. I'm sure that with a little ingenuity, we can get in touch with the others." Ark grinned again as he printed out the information and began to read to Barry everything that Umbrella knew...

Jill Valentine sighed, then shook her head sharply to get some of the brunette locks out of her eyes. She would have to get it cut eventually, if she ever got around to it. **At least I can once I've found Chris and got all this shit sorted out. Umbrella will be dead and we can finally get back to living normal lives. Well, living anyway.** Jill shut down her train of thought as Carlos sighed and plopped down in the chair opposite her. They were on the small, fenced off patio of a French bistro, and it was rather windy for a morning mid-way through March.

"Well, that pretty much exhausted any and all leads we had on this friend of yours, Jill." Carlos looked at her pointedly for a minute, and then smiled. "You sure he's not trying to avoid you on purpose?"

"Ha ha ha. You're a regular Jerry Seinfeld, Oliveira." Jill deadpanned as she threw a balled-up napkin at his head. He brushed off the paper projectile and fixed her with a serious stare before continuing, his South American accent slowing his words to a drawl.

"Maybe we should just give up. I know we've had this talk before Jill, but I can't help but wonder what this is gonna lead us to. Or more appropriately, _who_ this is gonna lead to _us_. We could be killed any day by Umbrella for what we know, and asking questions around Europe, the home continent of Umbrella's HQ, for a biohazard survivor is not helping matters. Raccoon City is still in the newspapers of every single country, and we're certain to get spotted. Is your old partner worth our lives?" Jill's eyes flashed, and before he knew what was going on, she had stood up, knocking her chair over backwards.

"I'm not giving up on him! He's the best friend I could ever ask for, and I'm not a cold hearted bastard like you! S.T.A.R.S. don't leave their own kind, and I'm damned if I'm leaving this miserable place until I find Chris Redfield!!" She stepped back quickly and prepared to storm off towards the hotel they shared, before a soft voice froze her in mid-step.

"Speak of the devil..." She whirled around to find herself staring at the smiling, slightly ragged face of her ex-partner. A shorter, springy girl with quick gray eyes stepped out from behind him, finishing his sentence with a grin.

"...and he shall appear." She jumped forward and flung her arms around Jill, who was still completely awe-struck by the two figures before her. "Hi Jill!! God, it's so good to see you. We were heading back to our apartment to check our messages, and we just happened to hear your, um...speech." Claire grinned again, then squeezed Jill tighter. The older woman, still completely flustered, was staring at Chris' face and trying to form a coherent thought.

"I...you were...how?" she stuttered out, before Claire released her from the hug and Jill fell into Chris's arms. "God, I thought I had lost you. Don't ever do this to me again, okay?" She whispered, looking up into his stormy blue eyes. The sudden rush of emotion took Chris aback; Jill was usually much more composed than this.

"Why don't we go back to our apartment and talk? We can go over everything that's happened." Chris said with his patented Redfield smirk in place. Jill nodded and started to pull away, but Chris pulled her in close again and whispered into her ear, "I'll never leave you again, Jill. I promise."

**Well, everything seems to be going well so far...**Rebecca Chambers noted to herself as she fiddled with the dog tags hanging around her neck. She was standing in the guardhouse of a small Umbrella lab in Vermont, just north of the capital, Montpelier. Her and John and David had managed to infiltrate the storage basement and the two Exeter S.T.A.R.S. were currently searching through it, looking for any hard evidence to convict Umbrella with. She had been put in charge of keeping an eye on the four guards that were patrolling the grounds. With a little elbow grease, John had managed to round up and hog-tie all four of them, and sat them in the bunkroom of the lab on the second basement level. That was where she was now, listening with half an ear at the obscenities that the angry watchmen hurled at her. Every now and then, she would cock the trigger on the M-16 that she held, and the guards would get quiet, but only for a few minutes. **God, guys hurry up. It's starting to get a little warm in here.** Rebecca knew that David and John needed their time to sort through files and such, but she still didn't like being stuck with a bunch of pissed Umbrella soldiers two levels below ground. She was still marveling over how surprisingly easy the operation was going when the alarms went off. With the screaming signal churning through her mind, Rebecca hopped off of the desk she was sitting on and jogged over to the monitoring system, her chest tightening with stress. After breaking into the compound, David had reset the intruder alarm and something had just tripped it again. Rebecca hoped that it wasn't anything serious, but the large screen at the top of the console had different news. Under cover of dark, about twenty men with rifles and vests decorated with the familiar red-and-white Umbrella logo were doing standard sweeping procedures at the gate before entering silently, single file. **Shitshitshitshit...**Rebecca fumbled the radio at her belt before feeling a cold cylinder press against the back of her head. She silently nodded a prayer that her friends would be safe as she brought her hands up.

"Don't speak, and you might live through this. Drop the gun and turn around slowly, hands up." The gunman snarled. The medic dropped the M-16 to the floor and swallowed before slowly pivoting, arms extended so he could see she was unarmed. Rebecca cursed herself for leaving the assault rifle on the desk as the soldier patted her down and took the Beretta out of her holster. "You pesky S.T.A.R.S. have been annoying us long enough, and it's about time that we took care of you." Rebecca winced at his tone, and swallowed again as she somehow managed to find her own voice. The soldier was a good couple of feet taller than her, and his messy black hair just barely touched his eyes. His nametag read 'Palmer.'

"What are you going to do?" she choked out, barely able to keep the fear out of her words. She glanced down and noticed the light at the top of her radio was on. Before the gunman had gotten the drop on her, she had managed to hit the call switch, and she only hoped that David and John were listening, wherever they were.

"The boss wants all of you survivors at headquarters so he can get the info that he wants. After that, I don't imagine that you'll be joining him for tea and cookies." Palmer laughed harshly and Rebecca felt a sudden rush of hatred for him, mixed with the tension she felt for her friends. He stood behind her and prodded her in the back and then motioned towards the chair behind the desk. After she had sat down with her arms folded he walked to the guards and untied them, ordering them to resume their posts before striding back and sitting on the edge of the desk that Rebecca had occupied only a few minutes before. She sighed, staring at the Umbrella soldier with anger burning in her eyes. The soldier noticed and grinned wider, taunting her. "Hey, what's the matter? Baby girl doesn't like being held at gunpoint?" The soldier stood up and shouldered the AK-47 he was holding and crossed his arms as well. "Maybe you should have finished high school before you started stirring up trouble." He teased. Before Rebecca could think of a suitable response, a high whine of static crackled through her radio. The soldier's eyes widened as realization flooded his face. He reached back to unsling the rifle, but Rebecca sprang towards him, fists clenched. She knocked the gun from his hand and sent him to the floor, landing on top of him in a messy heap. She crawled off of him and got back to her feet, prepared to continue the assault, but Palmer was too fast. He charged forward and cracked her across the face with a backhanded slap, sending Rebecca backwards. Her head smacked the wall with a dull thump and she slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Rebecca?" David's concerned voice, over the radio. "Rebecca, are you alright?" Palmer checked Rebecca's pulse and then unclipped the radio from her belt.

"Too late, Trapp." he laughed. "Her first, and now you."


	4. Uneasy Allies, Unexpected Enemies

I do not own Capcom or any of the characters that they have created, nor do I own the characters and storylines in S.D. Perry's Resident evil novels. This story, however, is mine.

I actually pumped this one out pretty fast, so I guess that EndGame is coming along OK. In answer to buffyfan363's question, yes Ark, Lott, and Lily are from Resident Evil Survivor. I've played every game that's com out on the market, so I can say that I love putting all the survivors into one story. I also own all seven novels, and I think they kick ass, too. Well, I guess that's all the 'shouting out' (lol) that I'll do today, so let's see how John and David will react to Rebecca's capture. See y'all again in a little while.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 4- Uneasy Allies, Unexpected Enemies

CRACK!! The radio shattered as it hit the wall with all the force that John could put behind it. The big man was seething, and David was staring at him with a strained expression on his face.

"Goddamn Umbrella bastards." John spat, kicking at a file cabinet. David sighed, shook his head, and nodded to John.

"Let's go. We'll catch up to Umbrella in a little while, but we won't do anybody any good if we get captured. We know their plan, so the next logical step is to get in touch with Barry and the others." The strategist explained. John stared with an amazed look on his face.

"But Rebecca..." He began, but David headed him off.

"We know that they'll keep her alive until they get all of us. She's as safe as possible right now, but the others may not know that Umbrella's trying to get us. We're a lot more useful outside of Umbrella's walls than inside, John." The former communications expert frowned, than growled and kicked the file cabinet again.

"If they hurt one hair on Rebecca's head, then I'll tear them apart with my bare hands." David nodded, the icy hate in his voice revealing his anger.

"I know John. Umbrella will pay for what they're doing. We'll make sure of that." Without much more to talk about, they gathered up their M-16s and left the small reference library they had been searching. Almost instantly, eight soldiers filled the hallway, shouting and aiming weapons. The two ex-S.T.A.R.S. dove back behind the library's steel door as the Umbrella goons let loose hails of bullets. John fought with the door against the hammer of explosive fire as David fired a few short bursts of shots himself. A pinched, grainy voice floated over the volleys of ammunition.

"Give up! I got the drop on Chambers myself, and the two of you are next!!" MJR Palmer's shouts fell on deaf ears as the two soldiers continued their fire. John looked at David and shook his head, indicating that they didn't have much of a chance against the greater numbers of Umbrella's soldiers. To John's amazement, David grinned and winked at him as he pulled something out of his vest. John understood seconds later as the impact grenade went sailing over the top of the door right into the midst of the firing squad at the other end of the hall. Palmer barely made it into an adjoining room before all hell broke loose, the shrapnel from the grenade putting the entire group of soldiers down and out. Both S.T.A.R.S. ran by seconds later. His ears ringing, Palmer picked up his rifle and stalked after them, leaving the shouts of his injured men behind. As they maneuvered through twisting hallways and an elevator that seemed, in John's opinion, to be running way too slow, David was praying to whatever gods that were listening that Rebecca would stay safe as the two closest friends she had ran for the lives, farther and farther away. The two men slammed out of the door at the back of the compound, the same one they had entered by only two hours before. They could hear the shouts and wailing intruder siren even from outside, and knew that they'd be in the middle of another firefight in a few moments if the Umbrella soldiers found them. After scaling the fence, they headed into the small wooded area that backed up to the small complex. Following two minutes of running, trees slapping at them and branches pulling at their clothing, they reached the black pickup truck that they had arrived in. The two soldiers stared at one another with grim faces as they took long shuddering breaths. John spoke up first.

"I don't know how we're gonna do it, but we're gonna get 'Becca back. If they so much as look at her the wrong way, I'll..." Again, David interrupted the larger man.

"Look, we've got to keep going. I didn't want to leave Rebecca any more than you did, but we'd have been overpowered after a few seconds of fighting. Rebecca's best chance lies in us gathering the survivors. I'm going to try to..." Whatever David was going to try was cut short by the ringing of his cell phone. He fumbled it out of his pocket and hit a button before bringing it up to his ear. "Yes?" he said cautiously. No one should know the number to his cell phone, except for the other members of David's team up in Maine. No one except John and Rebecca knew that the phone was still in operation.

"Hello, Mr. Trapp! How good it is to speak with you again!" A musical voice spilled out of the phone and David was taken back in his memory on one rainy September night to when he had been pulled into this nightmare. He whispered one word, one that John barely caught, despite the fact that he was standing right next to David.

"Trent."

"This had better be important, lieutenant. You should know that it is not considered wise to trifle with matters pertaining to my duties." The head of Umbrella's Special Forces division, agent Hunk, stormed down the hallway of international HQ, located in Austria. Lieutenant Christopher Clark followed closely behind him, brushing a hand over his buzzed brown hair.

"Agent Hunk, as I explained to you on the way here, the general wants to speak with you and Mr. Ginovaef at once regarding your special talents." The lieutenant paused before regarding Hunk with a hard stare. "You know that it's only because you're the head of Special Ops that you get any pull around here. I'm the general's personal assistant, and you can't intimidate me like you do with your wet-nosed punks back at training. Now don't tell me how to do my–-" Clark's words were cut off as Hunk grabbed the soldier by the throat and slammed him against the wall, face twisted into a sneer.

"You can't even fathom the things I've seen and had to do in my life. Some of the mission objectives that I have casually dealt with would give you nightmares so bad that you'd never wake up. I have fought with death. I have fought against death. I AM DEATH. Now, you will scurry on with your pointless little duties in your pointless little life before I get truly angry. Get out of my sight." He dropped the lieutenant to the ground, gasping. Hunk's eyes flashed with a deadly intensity as he adjusted the collar of his shirt and continued down the hallway to the general's office. After a few beats, LT Clark stood up and straightened his fatigues, muttering under his breath.

"Asshole. We'll see what he has to say after I—-" again Clark's words were stalled as he turned to find the company's head of security staring at him from the doorway. Nicholai Ginovaef had a predatory grin on his face as he eyed the young officer.

"Enjoy your little talk with Mr. Death, boy?" Nicholai taunted. The Russian was bodybuilder huge, with short cropped white hair and a jagged scar down one side of his face. Clark scowled up at him as he dusted off his uniform.

"I don't know who you people think you are, but I'm not standing for any more of this abuse. I'm gonna have a nice long talk with the general about you two bastards. He'll talk to the chairmen, and Jackson's sure to straighten you out." Clark's snarl turned to a whimper as Nicholai had him right back against the wall he occupied a few seconds before. The security head brandished his hunting knife with a flourish before he buried it up to the hilt in the wall centimeters from the lieutenant's head.

"If you think that _he_ was scary with his little death fetish, you should think twice before you show me any disrespect. I would just as soon kill you as look at you. Hunk might be on death's list, but I was forged in the fiery pits of Hell itself. Would you like me to show you _my_ demons?" Ginovaef jerked the knife from the wall and returned it to its sheaf before striding down the hall to join Hunk and the general for their meeting. Clark stared into space for a few moments and shook his head before stumbling down the hall after him, his face green.

The general in question was, of course, the head of all Umbrella's military activity internationally. He had risen through the ranks slowly but steadily, earning compliment after compliment and award after award. He could easily have been the commander of one of America's armed service branches, but the private corporation Umbrella came calling when he was a newly promoted colonel in the U.S. Army. As the commander of the international company's rather large militia, he had more power than most dictators ever do. In fact, if he wanted to, there were few countries in Europe that Umbrella's forces couldn't overrun. General Jonathan D. Roper, however, knew his place. As powerful as he and his forces were, he still had superiors and reported directly to Jackson Cortlandt, the chairman of the inner circle. It was a phone call only a few hours ago from Jackson that had Roper himself taking care of this business, rather than leaving it up to a less capable person. Roper liked Hunk, and was at least familiar with Ginovaef, but he had his orders and always came through for the company, always. So it was with a heavy but firm disposition that he showed the two soldiers into his office. Hunk was properly respectful as he took his seat, and Nicholai stood silently by the large bookcase that dominated the right wall of the room. LT Clark slipped through the door a few moments later, red faced and looking rather upset.

"General, if you would be so kind as to get right to the point of today's meeting, I would be eternally grateful. I have a few engagements that I need to tend to." Hunk acknowledged Nicholai. "And I'm sure that he has things that need his attention as well." Nicholai glared at the agent, then turned toward the man behind the desk.

"If there is something you wish to say, J.D., then let's have it. I'm a very busy person, and you know I don't like to be kept--" Nicholai stopped talking abruptly as he noticed Clark drawing his Desert Eagle from its holster. Hunk, unaware of the lieutenant's actions behind him, continued to wait for an answer from Roper. The general turned to face Hunk and Nicholai with a small .38 pistol in his hand.

"I'm terribly sorry, gentlemen, but I'm afraid that your prior plans will have to be cancelled. I've been instructed to have you escorted to the detention block. Lieutenant, if you please..." Roper trailed off, his intentions clear.

"After all that I've done for this company, do you think that you can just have me jailed like a common thug?? Are you out of your mind??" the special ops agent stood up, shouting. Hunk's hand drifted down to the 9mm that was holstered on his hip, and managed to take one step towards Roper before Clark slammed the butt of the magnum into the back of his head and Hunk crumpled to the floor. Nicholai took advantage of the situation and charged the general, knocking him sprawling and sending the semiautomatic clattering across the floor. He unsheathed his knife and prepared to drive it into Roper's skull before the bore of Clark's Desert Eagle pressed against his head.

"Drop the knife slowly, and unhand the general." Clark's voice was ice, and the gun pressed harder. Nicholai spun, quick as a cat, and caught Clark with a glancing blow across the left bicep. Bleeding steadily, the lieutenant dropped the heavy handgun and maneuvered out of the way as the knife descended again, burying itself in the mahogany bookcase. Nicholai savagely pulled the knife out, fire blazing in his eyes, and leapt towards the soldier...and stopped abruptly, his eyes wide and mouth open. The security head dropped to the ground with a crash, shaking wildly. LT Clark backed up, staring at the crazy Russian, before glancing over to his superior. Roper was leaning against the front of his desk, holding a large standard-issue tazer in his hands. Roper sighed and gestured toward the two unconscious men.

"Get them out of my office." Clark nodded, and radioed to his assistant, Corporal Michael Kimberling, to come up to the general's office. When the tall, spindly corporal came up moments later, Clark pointed at the two Umbrella agents and told him that they were headed for the detention center of the basement. As Kimberling began to cart off the two targets under supervision by Clark, Roper sat back down behind his desk, ran his hands through his short blond hair and took off his rimless glasses to clean them. He placed the specs back on his face and inspected the damage to his Armani suit: three long tears and scuffs on both shoes. Roper sighed. **The things I do for the good of the company...**


	5. HCF Becomes MIA

I do not own Capcom or any of the characters that they have created, nor do I own the characters and storylines in S.D. Perry's Resident evil novels. This story, however, is mine.

It took a little while (half a year to be exact), but I finally got around to finishing another chapter of EndGame. Umbrella's prisoner count is growing, and Wesker's happy little band is next on the list. Dum Dum Dum!! Makes you wonder how old Al's gonna get outta this one. Read on, and don't forget to review. EvilOverlords love reviews almost as much as they love pillaging and plundering the innocent masses...ahem...not that I do that or anything...(Oo)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 5- H.C.F. Becomes M.I.A.

Hours later and on the other side of the planet at H.C.F. headquarters in Dallas, Texas, Albert Wesker was thinking the same thing as well. He had just gotten back from an extensive mission in Japan, gathering information about Umbrella's investors, and all the busy work left him quite tired. Even though he had the strength and speed of ten men, and was all but invulnerable, Wesker was still, for the most part, human. His partner and associate, Ada Wong, sank down onto the couch next to him, kicking off her shoes and leaning back against the cushy pillows in Wesker's undecorated and spacious office.

"God if I ever see another lawyer, I'm going to shoot him. Twice." Ada groaned. "So, now what do we do? We've got the information we need about Umbrella's private funds, so do we go after the inner circle now?" She looked at Wesker, the man's expression impossible to read.

"Go check on the girl." Wesker ordered. Ada glared at him for a second, amazed that the first thing he thought about was Sherry.

"What's the big deal? Nothing ever happens around here. Sherry's fine." Wesker stared at her for a minute, eyebrows raised, and Ada knew what that meant. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going." She sighed. Had she pushed any further, Wesker probably would have given her a drawn out speech about being prepared. Better to avoid that all together. She stood up and straightened her jacket as she slipped her shoes back on. On the way down the stairs to the elevator leading to the lower levels, Ada thought of all that had happened in the past four years. From falling in love with Leon to getting shot by that crazy Birkin bitch, to falling to her 'death.' Albert had found her and nursed her back to health, and she was amazed that he didn't leave her for dead after failing the mission that he had sent her on. Of course, they had ended up with Sherry anyway, but the locket that held the G-virus was gone. They managed to get samples from Birkin's body after the train exploded, and H.C.F.'s leading scientists were slowly learning all they could about the T- and G-series viruses anyway. As far as B.O.W. research went, H.C.F. was only a few years behind the curve, and if Umbrella was taken out, they'd be the leading corporation. So industrial espionage was what it took to get rid of Umbrella. And who better to take the company down than one of their former employees? Wesker was quite a guy, and once you got used to him, he was a decent travel companion. Of course, after taking on a city full of biohazard creatures, the idea that the company that signed her paychecks was also working on the same things was a little disturbing, but the pay was good and the scenery changed. That's all that really mattered to Ada. Well, that and Leon. She had never forgotten the rookie cop that so selflessly protected her that night, and though she certainly didn't look forward to meeting him again as his enemy, she still hoped he was okay. She curbed her thoughts as she reached the door to the cellblock where their young prisoner spent her days. Ada slid her data card and opened the door. Sherry Birkin was all of sixteen years old, and she certainly looked it. Pixie blond hair and big blue eyes, Sherry was a lonely, insecure teenager who had spent the last two years under lock and key at H.C.F.'s headquarters. Ada's heart went out to her; she went through the same nightmare as Ada, back in Raccoon, and she had handled herself amazingly. She was pretty tough then at twelve, much tougher than Ada had been at that age. The girl was sleeping, but at the sharp sound of the heavy metal door being opened, she sprang from her bed and backed herself against the wall. Once she saw that it was Ada, however, she relaxed. But just a little.

"Hi, Sherry." Ada said. "What's up?"

"Well, I've been held prisoner in a cell for the last two years." Sherry said sarcastically. "How are you?" Ada sighed. She knew that the girl didn't like to be kept a prisoner, but with her in H.C.F.'s custody, they had a powerful bargaining tool at their disposal. Particularly since she carried the only G-virus vaccine in existence in her bloodstream. Ada looked at her watch and rubbed her eyes, it had been almost two full days since she had last slept, and it was two thirty in the morning. Her ability to focus was starting to suffer. She picked up the phone mounted on the wall and dialed Wesker's office. It barely rang once before Wesker's voice shot through.

"Yes?"

"Sherry's just fine. A little displeased, but you would be, too. I'm gonna stretch out on one of the guard cots down here for a few. Wake me if anything important happens." Ada set the phone back in the cradle and sat down on the end of the narrow bed. "Night, kiddo. It's past my bedtime, and yours, so let's try to get some shut eye." Sherry stared for a minute, then shrugged her shoulders and laid back down on her bed. She shut her eyes, muttering to herself.

"Whatever."

Wesker hung up, rolling his eyes. Sleep didn't come naturally to him, even before his transformation, but he had to admit that he was feeling pretty worn out. Wesker settled back behind his desk, calling up information on his computer. He made use of the time spent with Umbrella to the fullest, and he still was able to hack into the Umbrella mainframe quite easily. He scanned the memorandums and files, stopping when he came to a file with his own name on it. **Funny. They should have more important things on their minds than a dead ex-employee. Let's see what the inner circle thinks is so important...**Wesker clicked on the tab, and read through the file. He frowned as what he read revealed that they didn't think he was as dead as he'd hoped. **They know I'm with H.C.F. and that we've got Sherry. But how much more do they know?** His mental question was answered for him as alarms blared out of hidden loudspeakers all over the complex. There was only one solution. **Umbrella. They've come.** Wesker jumped up and strode to the door, seething with rage. **How dare they ruin all of my careful planning? Who the hell do they think they are? **Tiny noises snapped him out of his thoughts. With his superhuman hearing, he detected moving noises around the corner a few corridors away from where he was walking. The ex-captain stopped and smiled. If Umbrella wanted Albert Wesker, they'd get him.

**Considering H.C.F. is the second most advanced biological weapons manufacturer in the world, they sure don't believe in heavy security measures...like posting guards.** Colonel Clayton Greenway grinned as his men fanned out and began to sift through the rooms on the first floor of H.C.F.'s headquarters. The first floor of the two-floor building was primarily offices, data processing labs, and a couple of rec rooms. The second floor was the surgical bay, synthesis and bioweapon storage, and a few more offices for the higher ups...like their primary targets, Albert Wesker and Ada Wong. The detention block was the only thing below ground, and that would be the most likely area to find their secondary target, the Birkin girl. General Roper himself had asked the colonel to personally take care of the renegade ex-employee, and Greenway, for the most part, was happy to do it. He had been in and out of combat situations for his entire adult life, and considered himself the most prepared man to ever set foot on enemy territory. Initial scans showed that Wesker was in his office upstairs, but Wong and the girl were nowhere on the grid, so they had to be in the cells under the complex. Recon over the last few weeks had not seen the girl leave, and Wong's signature disappeared soon after she and Wesker had returned.** This is gonna be easy. If I do a good job on this and bring all three in, I'll be on easy street with a pay raise and a vacation. I might go see Jackson after all is said and done, just to give him a personal report on how efficient my boys are...**Greenway grinned again as he watched his men search through the rooms on the floor they had entered. Gunshots from a few halls over interrupted his daydream and he shouldered the MP-5 that he had with him, just in case. The bursts of auto fire thinned out, and screams slowly took their place. Apparently, the boys had found their primary target. The burly bald man pulled the syringe that HQ had given him out of the sheaf, watching the blue fluid inside drift back and forth slowly. Greenway grinned and headed toward where his men were making their last stand.

Wesker grinned as he snapped the young man's neck, almost breaking into a harsh laugh at the man's funny expression of terror. The blonde man had already disposed of a full third of the men on Umbrella's squad, and he only detected about twenty or so to start with. He heard steps behind him, and faster than fast, he was there, grabbing the soldier around the neck and lifting him up off the ground to slam him against the wall. As Wesker prepared to snap his neck like he had done to his fellow soldiers, he noticed the eagle clipped to his collar. **A colonel, eh? Too high ranking to be anything but the commander of this idiotic attack. Maybe I can get information out of him. **Wesker loosened his grip and brought the man down so that his feet were touching the floor.

"All right, you've disturbed my somewhat peaceful night and made me go and make a mess of your boys all over the compound. What the hell are you here for?" Wesker growled, not even bothering to keep the annoyance out of his voice. To his credit, the only sign of surprise the colonel betrayed was a widening of his eyes. He coughed, trying to breathe through Wesker's iron grip, and choked out a response.

"Albert Wesker, I have orders to take you, your associate Ms. Wong, and your prisoner Sherry Birkin into Umbrella custody. Come peacefully, or drastic measures will be taken to insure your cooperation." Wesker's own eyes grew wide at the soldier's bravado.

"Are you threatening me, little man?" the H.C.F. agent asked, bewildered by the calm way that the soldier was acting. **The man's life is second's away from ending, and he gives me an ultimatum?** The thought was so insanely funny that Wesker actually laughed, shaking his head. In one quick movement, the colonel snapped his arm around and buried the syringe into Wesker's chest before depressing the plunger and injecting the thick blue goo into the blond man's system. Immediately, Wesker stopped laughing and narrowed his eyes through the dark sunglasses he wore, tightening his grip around the man's throat once again. "What the hell was that?" Wesker questioned. "You have approximately five seconds to answer before I—" a sharp pain coursed through his body then, as strong as an electrical charge. The colonel brought his arm up and broke Wesker's grip quite easily before rearing back and decking the Umbrella traitor full on in the face. Amazed, The ex-S.T.A.R.S. captain reeled back and fell on his ass, blood flowing from a nasty gash on his lip. "But how?" He sputtered, completely confused. "I can't bleed. I'm invincible!" COL Greenway laughed at him.

"Not quite, traitor. The syringe had an adamantium needle, capable of piercing even your rock-solid skin. Umbrella developed a cure for your virus...one that's currently coursing through your bloodstream as we speak. You're all human, bub." Wesker shook his head, unable to believe it.

"No...it can't happen...but how..." He stuttered, backing down the hall. Greenway laughed harshly and pulled out his knife, grinning at the fully-human again agent.

"Are you coming with me, or do I have to take you?" Greenway growled. Wesker, still confused, turned and fled down the corridor, mind racing. The colonel sighed and started after him.

Down the stairs and into the underground parking garage of the H.C.F. complex, Wesker ran all out under the fluorescent lights, finding his Plymouth Prowler parked where he had left it only a few short hours before. He leaped into the front seat and gunned the hot rod to life, thankful that he had picked it instead of a bulky Jeep or some type of truck. Hitting the control for the gate that sat on the dashboard, the tires squealed as he floored the gas and raced away into the night, leaving the dejected colonel to fire off a few shots from his MP-5 at the rapidly receding car.

"Damn it! That son of a bitch!" Greenway cursed, firing his weapon off again to no avail. The radio on his belt crackled to life, and one of his boys called his name. He unhooked the radio and barked out "Report."

"Sir, we have Wong and Birkin." The voice, tinny and scratchy, came through over the airwaves. "They were both sleeping, and we managed to get the drop on them. They have been chloroformed, and they are being transported back up to the truck as we speak. Did you and Echo squad get Wesker?"

"Negative." Greenway grunted, rolling his eyes. "He's been disinfected, but he escaped. Get back to the main corridor on the double. Salvage what we can from the labs and offices, then set the detonators. This place is going down."

The detonation of H.C.F.'s primary laboratory and HQ was a huge affair, and even from four miles away, Wesker could see the multi-billion dollar complex go up in smoke. He stood out in front of his car, mind racing over what had happened in just a few short hours. **Umbrella knows I'm alive, and they want me in the worst possible way. My powers are gone, Ada and the girl are in their custody, and my new employers are short one headquarters building and a few billion dollars of funding, not to mention any and all chance of surpassing Umbrella in the bio-weapons field. Damn efficient little bastards, aren't they?** Wesker sighed, pondering his next move. He had to get Ada and Sherry out, otherwise all his careful planning would be for naught. Umbrella wanted all their bio-hazard survivors rounded up, he had read as much on that little file he had stumbled across, but why? For what? What would he do now? He certainly couldn't take on the company by himself, especially with his biological upgrades gone. **That damn colonel, he's going to pay dearly for what he did to me. With interest. But what to do? What to do?** After a moment, an evil smile crossed his features. He needed to find Chris Redfield.


	6. Meeting Of The Minds

I do not own Capcom or any of the characters that they have created, nor do I own the characters and storylines in S.D. Perry's Resident evil novels. This story, however, is mine.

My apologies to all my readers for the sheer length of time it took me to crank out this next chapter, and I gotta say that writer's block totally sucks the root. I want to thank you for hanging with me for this long, and I'm looking forward to reading my reviews...assuming of course, that my author ID hasn't expired in the time it took me to finish this damn thing. In this chapter, we'll see what RE's wily Texan and ex-convict have been up to. R&R by order of your EvilOverlord.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter 6- Meeting Of The Minds

The footsteps echoed on the polished tile floor of the massive records room, only adding to the tension that had been building throughout Barry's massive frame. He shifted the weight of his travel bag from his right shoulder to his left, and adjusted the butt of the Colt Python tucked into the back of his belt, hidden under his battered leather jacket. He needed to find Bruce and tell the Texan that his life was in more danger than usual as a member of STRATCOM. The list that Ark had given Barry contained Bruce's name, and he needed the man as a travel companion to Colorado for a meeting with Thompson and the two kids that he was guarding. Barry had already searched the offices and conference rooms of the sprawling complex and had left the double-floor record room for last, figuring that it was the least likely place for Bruce to be. **Of course, Bruce is the kind of guy that would be exactly where no one would expect him to be...**Sure enough, Barry found him at the computer terminal on the upper level, passed out with files open in front of him and one hand still on the computer mouse. The man was snoring lightly, and even the tapping of Barry's shoe against the oak panel baseboard of a nearby bookcase didn't stir him. Barry thought for a few seconds, finally deciding that he didn't have time for games.

"We've got trouble!" the big man bellowed, his deep voice echoing in the room. Bruce McGivern jumped, pulled his Beretta out of his shoulder holster, and had the bore pressed against Barry's forehead before he even had any idea who startled him. Realizing who he was menacing with his sidearm, Bruce sighed with relief and holstered the Beretta before sinking back down into the chair.

"Jesus, Barry, ya gave me a fright. What the hell are you doing back up here? I thought ya got off already." he muttered, running a hand through his unruly blonde hair. Bruce had been in the records room for over four hours now, painstakingly entering all the details of the Duvall case for his superiors. He looked at Barry and was disturbed at how frail and nervous the big man looked. Bruce had known the ex-S.T.A.R.S. officer for quite a while now, and Barry looked worse than Bruce had ever seen him. The two of them, along with Leon, had been working for STRATCOM for almost two years, and their main focus was the downfall of Umbrella. Barry had gone home hours ago, and Bruce was curious as to what he was even doing awake, let alone wandering around San Diego with his travel bag slung over his shoulder. "You going somewhere, partner?" Bruce asked.

"I need your help, Bruce. Leon and Lucia...they've been captured." Barry explained, worry lining his face. "I was contacted by another biohazard survivor by the name of Ark Thompson, one of Leon's old buds. He was hacking Umbrella files and found a list of names. They're people that are to be terminated to withhold knowledge of Umbrella's genetic testing. Lucia, Leon, and I are on that list as biohazard survivors, and unfortunately, you are too." All the color drained out of Bruce's face instantly. "There's more. Umbrella knows we're here in San Diego, and they intend to do something about it. Now I've got Ark and the two kids in his care going to a little cottage that I've had set up in Colorado. It's remote and should be safe. You and I need to get moving before any more of Umbrella's goon squads come hunting." Bruce nodded with a grim smile on his face.

"It was getting boring 'round here, anyway." He rubbed the stubble on his chin as he pulled his jacket on. "So how will we be traveling? You still got that old 'copter?" Barry nodded, a sad smile appearing on his own face.

"Yeah, it's in the motor pool." STRATCOM employed a wide range of different activities, and the small building and courtyard that housed its facilities had its own little vehicle terminal across the compound. After saving Jill and Carlos from Raccoon, Barry had returned to California with them so that STRATCOM could discuss the last days of the infected city. Soon after, Jill and Carlos had headed off to Europe to find Chris, and Barry had stayed with STRATCOM with Leon and Bruce. Not even two months later, Barry and Leon had quite an adventure on the U.S.S. Starlight, culminating with Leon's infection by a strange organism and the rescue of a little redheaded girl named Lucia. Barry had adopted her upon return to San Diego, and Leon underwent the same operation to remove the parasite that Lucia had gone through back on the ship. Life had calmed down a bit since then, until Bruce's adventure on yet another zombie-infested boat called the Spencer Rain. Barry thought about how ironic it was that all three biohazard survivors working for STRATCOM had gone through ships with B.O.W.s on them, and he started to tell his companion about the funny coincidence.

"You know Bruce, I—" Barry open the front door leading from the lobby to the courtyard and was interrupted as an oriental girl with short black hair fell through the doorway, bleeding heavily from a wound on her shoulder and gasping for air. She focused on Bruce and muttered something in Chinese before pitching into Barry's startled arms, passing out from exhaustion. The big man looked up at Bruce, preparing to ask what was going on, but Bruce answered him before the sentence could even get out.

"Fong Ling!" Barry and Bruce stared at each other for a moment, questions filling the empty silence. Then they hauled the unconscious girl back inside the building.

"Hey, watch it!" The tall, brown-haired man screamed as a massive 18-wheeler swerved over into his lane without using his signal. The rig driver leaned out of his window and hurled an obscenity at the motorcyclist, punctuating his statement by flipping him the bird. The biker just shook his head as he continued on down the interstate. **After driving nonstop for the last eighteen hours, it'll be nice to lay down somewhere in a nice warm bed. **He shut down that chain of thought as he pulled over into a little motel just off of the main highway. Killing the motor on the Softail and dropping the kickstand, Billy Coen swung off the motorcycle and straightened his tousled brown hair. He really needed a haircut and a shave, but being on the run from the law, particularly if you were suspected of mass-murder, had the unfortunate side effect of not being able to settle down for too long in one spot. Granted, thanks to Rebecca, he was widely assumed to be dead, but there's always a cop or two out there that doesn't believe what they're told until they've seen proof. He checked his reflection in the side window of the black pickup next to him, noting absently that the truck had Vermont plates as he walked into the motel's tiny and cluttered office.

"Hi, how can I help you?" the perky little front desk clerk said with a smile. She looked Billy up and down, her grin growing wider at his choice of attire. He had on blue jeans that had a hole in one knee and frayed edges from constant use, along with a white tank top and a black unbuttoned short sleeve shirt on over it. The back of the shirt had a skull with a cigarette loosely clamped in its teeth, and across the top, the words "Die-Hard Badass" in electric blue letters. Along with the five-day old stubble on his face, Billy figured that he looked like a local mechanic that had just gotten off a long shift, but the girl behind the counter didn't seem to mind. "So, will you be needin' a room for tonight?" she grinned what Billy guessed was her seductive smile, and winked at him. Aggravated by her sophomoric flirting, Billy didn't smile back.

"Yeah, just a room and a bed for the night. I've had a long day." He pulled a few crumpled twenties out of his pocket and tossed them on the counter, staring at the small TV in the corner of the office. It was some reality series that he vaguely remembered, and he rolled his eyes at the idea of any half-educated human being sitting down to watch a group of girls fighting over the right to go out with some guy.

"Do you think you'll need anything else?" She asked sweetly, oblivious to Billy's frustration. "Ice? Blankets? Company?" She smiled a wistful smile and traced a pink-polished fingernail up Billy's forearm, following the twisting tattoo that covered most of his lower arm and bicep. He growled and pulled away, glaring at the girl with distaste and annoyance.

"Just gimme a key to a room." He barked, ignoring the surprise and hurt that crossed the girl's face. She frowned and stalked back to the pegboard by the safe and snatched a green tag off the wall.

"Room 5C." she sniffed, and dropped the key on the counter before stalking back to the office. Billy sighed again and grabbed the key and turned away from the reception desk. As he turned around, a commercial flashed across the screen on the TV that caught his eye: REAL TRUTH BEHIND RACCOON TRAGEDY!! NEWS AT 11!! His eyes widened and he quickened his pace out the door and around the side of the building, heading down the row of doors and counting off room numbers as he went. He came up on the open window to 4C and glanced at the gold number on the door as he walked by when a deep voice drifted past the curtains, making Billy pause.

"Goddamn Umbrella! We need to take 'em out, fast and hard!" a lower pitched voice, tinged with a British accent, answered the first speaker.

"I know John, I know. Once we figure out a plan of action, we'll call in the S.T.A.R.S. we can trust and bring them down. But we can't go off all half-cocked or we'll make mistakes." Billy sunk down to one knee under the window, and listened closer, fascinated by the conversation. **S.T.A.R.S.? Umbrella? Sounds like someone is mixed up in the same fiasco that I am. Didn't Rebecca work for the S.T.A.R.S.? **With that thought, Billy shifted his weight to his other knee, causing the floorboard underneath him to creak. The men inside stopped themselves in mid-sentence, listening for whatever made the noise. Billy scurried away from the window, backing himself up against the door to the men's room. A shadow paused in front of the window, one of the speakers searching for spies perhaps. The figure shrugged and walked away, and Billy exhaled in relief, preparing to continue on to his room until the first guy said something that made all the color drain out of his face.

"What about 'Becca? How do we save her when we don't even know where she is? Did Trent say anyth-" The loud man stopped abruptly and Billy didn't even have time to react before the door he was leaning on was thrown open and he tumbled backwards, right into a chokehold by a pair of heavily muscled arms. Billy gasped and struggled to hit the man in the face, but the big man turned sharply, cutting off all of Billy's air and sending him into the far wall of the hotel room. Billy hit the plaster and sank to the floor, chest heaving. The next sound he heard was a round being chambered into a semiautomatic handgun. It was a sound he was familiar with, but one he'd never really enjoyed. He cracked one eye open and saw that two men were standing over him, each holding Berettas and wearing matching grim faces. The one on the left was a tall slender guy with short black hair and a piercing gaze, while the other one was an immense black guy with dark hair and even darker eyes. Judging by the size of him, he was the one responsible for Billy's current condition. The ex-Marine coughed and sat up, eyeing the weapons with a calm but cautious expression. The tall guy spoke up then, his accent giving him an air of authority.

"Who are you and what are you doing skulking around our room? Did Umbrella send you?" The bodybuilder grinned wider, showing off a row of bright white teeth.

"If he is, he ain't gonna live long enough to regret it." Billy stared at him for a moment, and then slowly stood up, palms out. Both men kept their weapons trained on him and moved towards the door, cutting off his escape route.

"Look guys, I know this seems suspicious, but my name is Billy Coen, and we have a lot more in common than you'd think." The Brit regarded him with a quizzical stare, obviously weighting his options.

"Where have I heard your name before?" he asked, lowering his weapon a little.

"Well, you could've heard my name on the news a few years back, but I'm willing to bet that you've seen it on a pair of dog tags far more recently." A look of complete shock came over both men, and they lowered their weapons at the same time. Billy looked at the Brit and sat down on the end of one of the beds, rubbing his temple. "I'm looking for Rebecca Chambers, and if I'm not mistaken, you are too." The white guy holstered his sidearm and walked over to the ex-convict, never taking his eyes off the man. The big one, John, kept the distrustful look on his face, and sat down on the chair next to the door, not pointing the gun towards him anymore, but not putting it away, either. The one with the accent poured a glass of water from the tap and handed it to Billy, before resuming his position in front of the hotel room door.

"Okay Mr. Coen," He said, crossing his arms, "Start talking."


End file.
